


You need a carer

by Armyofangrymarshmallows



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Boredom Buster, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armyofangrymarshmallows/pseuds/Armyofangrymarshmallows
Summary: The Doctor shows up to Clara’s flat in a state and he needs a carer, luckily he’s landed in the right place...





	You need a carer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, 
> 
> This is my first ever fic and I’m aware it’s not perfect but I hope you enjoy. It’s literally the product of my boredom the other day. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated but please be gentle, any horrific comments will be deleted. 
> 
> Enjoy....

Clara sits in the sofa in the living room of her tiny flat with two cups of tea and a plate stacked with biscuits on the coffee table waiting for today’s adventure with the Doctor. He should arrive any minute and she can't wait, he seems to be going an extra mile recently to make the adventures even more special. She smiles to herself as the TARDIS materialises in the bedroom. She gets up to greet her long time friend but stops dead at his appearance with a look of pure shock in her face. 

The Doctor is standing upright, but barely. His grey hair has a patch of scarlet as big as his hand and his right eye is swollen shut. His right arm is bent clutching his ribs on his left side and his normally straight nose is at an awkward angle with blood coming from it as well as his rugged jaw being out of place. His beloved black woolen coat is torn and he is covered in mud and dust. A large rip in his trousers suggests to Clara that what she sees isn't the worst it gets. He sways a little but smiles when he sees her, his white teeth stained red with his own blood. 

“Hello Clara,” he says with a broken voice. Clara gently guides him to her living room and sits him on the sofa. “Don't worry about me, I'm fine.” 

Clara scoffs and yells at him for being so reckless before leaving the room to get a bowl of water to clean him up and her extensive first aid kit drying her eyes as she walks. She pauses resting her head on the side. What happened to him? She wonders to herself what on Gallifrey he could possibly have done to return like this. She gets what she needs and returns moving the biscuits and tea out of the way putting the bowl down and the first aid kit on the floor. He protests as she wets the cloth to clean his face but she shuts him up with a look. She dabs at the wound on his head which looks quite deep and cleans his hair. He tries to hide his discomfort from her as best as he can but it's not quite good enough. She moves to his eye and cleans the mud and blood off revealing a nasty black bruise around the swelling. 

Once she’s finished with his face, she moves to take his coat off. She helps him get his clearly broken arm out and she pulls the coat off his exhausted body. She sees that the back is shredded and looks at his back seeing lots of cuts and blood soaked into his shirt. Clara moves to his feet and undoes his bootlaces gently peeling the leather off his large feet. As she pulls the boot off his left foot by straightening his leg, he moans in pain and clutches at his knee with his non broken arm panting. 

“Hey, shush, shush, shush,” she says soothingly placing her hand on his shoulder in a supporting way not realising it's hurting him. She finishes taking his boots and socks off leaving him in his shredded shirt and trousers. She finishes cleaning the mud and worst of the blood off him in silence with the odd moan of discomfort from the Doctor. 

“Do you want me to get you a change of clothes from the TARDIS so you don't have to stay in these?” She asks softly. 

“Please…” he murmurs sounding breathless so she decided to be quick. She leaves the room calmly with the tears still streaming down her face. Once Clara enters the TARDIS, she sees patches of blood tracing on the floor around the console and she can picture the Doctor struggling to fly back to her. She heads to the wardrobe and picks up his white t shirt and black sweatpants with a pair of thick socks the goes back to him. 

“Sorry, got a bit lost but I got you something more comfortable… Doctor?” She shouts as she walks back through her flat to the living room. She puts the clothes down on the chair and turns around looking at the Doctor. “Bit sleepy?” She asks but something's not right, he's too still. His head is lolled uncomfortably on his shoulder and he is slouched in the soft fabric of the sofa when he was sitting up on his own. She puts a hand on his chest and is relieved that he is still breathing. His breaths sound painful and are short and shallow. 

Making up her mind, Clara goes into the TARDIS to look for something to help him breathe. She finds an oxygen mask with a full tank of oxygen in the cupboard and hurries back to him. She places it on his face and turns the tap letting the air fIll his lungs. The clicker ball assures her that he's breathing a little better but still badly. She decides to take his shirt off and examine his back to patch it up. She unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off him after soaking it to get it to come off his back. She looks at his torso and sees a nasty cut along his collarbone. She looks down at his clearly broken ribs surrounded by bruises before moving him so he is laying on his front to examine his back. The cuts aren't too deep and won't need stitches but probably need a dressing or something to cover them. She straps a long dressing down the worst of the cuts and then rolls him into his back. His long legs now dangle over the end of the little sofa. The wound in his leg has some sort of green pus seeping out of it which Clara notices and tries to think what to do.

*****

The Doctor blinks the bright light out of his face as he wakes a short while later. He takes in his surroundings, Clara's bedroom, he's on her bed. He looks to one side and sees Clara watching his every move. 

“Morning, sleep well?” She asks smiling sweetly. 

“What happened?” He rasps with the oxygen mask still on his face. 

“I'd quite like to know myself. I think you passed out so I fixed you with help from the TARDIS.” He examines himself. The cut on his head has been stitched up, he has a neck brace on and is heavily bandaged. He tries to sit but can't even get partly up off the bed. He groans and looks to the side of the bed. There's a heart rate monitoor with wires snaking under his t shirt and bandages. “I had to get those bloody rags off you and the TARDIS showed me how to look after you.” 

The Doctor looks away so Clara can't see the tears, he never wanted her to see him like this. He should've just gone straight to her and not tried to impress her with a dramatic entrance. 

“Hey, it's okay. The pain must be bad but I know you'll be okay eventually. Just rest up now, we'll talk once you've rested.” 

“No… take it off… can't breathe…” he says starting to panic at his hands find the collar around his neck and the bandages around his torso. She tries to calm him down and takes the mask off his face. 

“Doctor, that collar is for your jaw, it's broken or something and this keeps it in place. You feel like that because according to the TARDIS you have eight broken ribs which have bruised your lung so I fixed them in place so they can't puncture it. Please, calm down. Rest now, it's okay. You're safe. Just sleep.” The Doctor closes his eye and falls back into the abyss. 

*****

It is three days later when he wakes again. Clara has removed the heart rate monitor and oxygen mask and his cuts and scrapes have almost completely healed except the one on his leg. His bones are slowly mending and he needs a shave but he is on the mend. He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He is still on Clara's bed and he bright daylight sneaking through the curtains burns his eyes at first. He decides to get up if he can and stretch his legs a bit. He removes the collar around his neck and tries to sit up. He has a little more success this time but the pain in his side makes him feel dizzy and sick and he falls back into the bed groaning. He glances at the clock, quarter past two in the afternoon. Clara is probably still at work, he thinks. Poor Clara. She has probably been through so much fussing over him, he can't keep doing this. 

Decidedly, the Doctor pushes through the agony and manages to sit up. Right, progress. He throws the duvet off his legs and sees one is heavily bandaged supported by a few pillows. Okay, he'll have to limp back to the TARDIS, she can't be out of the flat. 

Gritting his teeth, he moves his legs over the bed and bends the non bandaged one. It aches but doesn't hurt, he can probably move around enough on it. He tries to bend his bandaged leg but it audibly grinds and cracks as he yelps in agony. No, how about not using that leg. He tries to bend his bandaged arm but the same thing happens. One arm, one leg, should end well. He sees that a nasty bruise is visible in the crook of his healthy elbow like someone has been injecting him. Ah crap, he thinks, it wasn't just a dream. He manages to use the wall to help him to his feet and he uses it to limp haphazardly to the living room. The exertion cost him a lot of strength and he feels woozy and breathless. He plops down into the armchair and notices a makeshift bed on the sofa, Clara must be sleeping there. He looks around and sees the TARDIS in the kitchen before summoning the energy to move towards the box . He snaps his fingers and uses the cool metal rail to get to the console. He asks the TARDIS for help and goes to the storage cupboard. In it he finds a pair of crutches, clothes and slippers as well as a toothbrush and a razor. He thanks the box and heads back out to Clara's bathroom. 

After the long limp to the bathroom and two pit stops to catch his breath, he looks at his face in the mirror. His eye is still badly bruised and he still has the stitches in his head with the gauze on his nose to support it. He runs his hand through his stubble and decides to shave it off. It takes longer than expected but he is clean shaven at least. He combs his hair with his fingers and admires the fresh scar from his ear to jaw where it was obviously reset using the laser thingy in the TARDIS. He sighs, why did he have to interfere? He could've avoided all of this. He brushes his teeth and notices one is missing but that's to be expected, he'll get a new one. 

Next, the Doctor admires his arm. His shoulder is seriously bruised but not broken which is good. He feels his arm under the bandage, yup, definitely broken in about three places. He decides to take off the bandaged around his torso, he's too sweaty. He looks in the mirror at his back with great difficulty but sees the once deep wounds are now mere cat scratches. Well being a time lord has its perks. He looks next at his ribs. Holy hell, that's nasty he thinks. Each rib on his left side is individually at a different angle with bright blue and purple bruises covering his torso. He nearly vomits at the sight and hastily puts his t shirt on as best as he can. He then puts the sling on to take the weight of his arm so he can relax a bit. 

The Doctor stares at his bandaged leg in dread. It hurts a hell of a lot so it can only be bad as he gently unwraps the bandages. His shin is bruised and broken but he can deal with that until he gets to his knee. It is grotesquely twisted and swollen clearly indicating his bones are shattered. He closes his eyes at the sight, he's struggling to focus and not pass out. He looks at the massive dressing covering the majority of his thigh where the weirdly infected wound was. He decides against taking the dressing off because the sight of his leg already is making him feel so sick. He leaves the bandages off as he can't face putting them back and tries to put the sweatpants on. After a lot of pain and struggle, he manages to get the sweatpants on. The exertion leaves him sweaty and breathless but at least Clara won't have to continue to see him with nothing but his underpants on. 

The Doctor’s next priority is to make sure Clara can have her bed back, he can sleep on the sofa so Clara can have a full night's sleep. He plops down in the armchair and rests for a bit, he hasn't got a lot of strength left so maybe he should just go back to bed but Clara is too important to sleep on a sofa. 

Once he's tidied up a bit he plops on the armchair and rests his leg on the coffee table. He probably doesn't look as bad now. Very far from well, but at least clean shaven and clothed. The exertion from just pottering around has taken a toll and he succumbs to sleep. 

***** 

“Doctor? Doctor?” Clara says shaking his shoulder slightly to try and wake him. He grumbles and opens his eyes seeing Clara's face near his. 

“I'm not dead,” he murmurs. Clara rolls her eyes and sits on the sofa taking in his appearance. 

“You're feeling better then?” The Doctor deliberates for a moment before answering. 

“Uh… yes. I can hobble to my TARDIS and look after myself so uh… I guess I'll be off then.” Clara frowns and looks disappointed. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes quite sure,” he lies and Clara can tell. 

“Doctor, please stay. I can tell you're forcing yourself to act like this. I really don't mind looking after you but I need to know what happened to you. I want to help you so if you're really okay and can get by yourself, I'll let you go but if you so much as limp funny I'm taping you to that bed.” 

“Okay, I'll make tea then.” He gets the crutch and gets up wincing against the pain and moves to the kitchen to make tea. Clara follows him and watches as he moves. He’s very slow and panting quite a lot which worries her but so far he's okay. While the kettle boils, he sits at the table with his head in his hand panting. 

“Yeah, you're not going anywhere Doctor. You can't even walk to the kitchen without nearly passing out.” 

“I'm not unconscious though, just dizzy,” he retorts. Clara rolls her eyes and helps him back to the living room. At least he can walk a bit. That's progress. 

**** 

Two weeks later, the Doctor is much better. Time lords heal quicker than humans so his arm is now healed, his face looks normal, his ribs are all but healed and his knee is now just in a support and he doesn't need to use a crutch anymore. He wanders around Clara's flat in his normal attire awaiting her return from work. She has been so good to him, she deserves a really good adventure. Where could he take her? Maybe Barcelona? He ponders to himself as he paces the small flat. He hears the door open and stands waiting for Clara to notice him. 

“Hey, wow, all dressed back to normal,” she remarks. He nods and smiles. 

“Yeah, healed up well with extreme thanks to you. So, how about an adventure?” He says outstretching his hand to her. 

“God yeah,” she says taking his hand and skipping into the TARDIS.


End file.
